


What's the worst that can happen?

by Callistemon



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas shopping injuries, Hospitals, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Medical Procedures, Post-Season/Series 03, concussion, spongebob squarepants - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callistemon/pseuds/Callistemon
Summary: "What's the worst that can happen?"Matt and Foggy had often joked that the phrase was somehow cursed. But when Foggy uses it to convince Matt to go present shopping on Christmas Eve, neither of them anticipated Matt would be injured by Spongebob Squarepants.





	What's the worst that can happen?

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note about the origin of the cursed phrase: it's a running joke between Kirsten McDuffie and Matt Murdock in the comics (Wade/Rivera). Anyone who's read my series Get Up would be familiar with it.
> 
> I wrote this quickie last month (it fills my concussion square in Daredevil Bingo), but then that night the creator of Spongebob Squarepants died so I questioned the appropriateness of this story. I considered changing the character but I like the way this seriously absurd character has somehow made it onto billboards, shops, buses, people's keyrings... Anyway, I think enough time has passed. Please enjoy.

“Hey dude, I thought you weren’t coming,” Foggy said as he approached Matt in the department store foyer. The sea of last-minute Christmas shoppers naturally parted around them – one of the benefits of Matt’s very visible white cane.

“It’s not really my ideal meeting spot,” Matt grumbled. “The perfume-” He wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah, it’s overbearing even for me,” Foggy said. “Sorry, I should have met you in the dumpster lined alleyway instead.”

Matt cracked a smile. He tipped his head upwards and said, “who are we doing first?”

Foggy unfolded his Christmas present list. “Mom, dad, Theo, Karen-”

“Karen? She’s not coming tomorrow is she?”

“No, but we haven’t got a present for her yet. You must have gleaned she was disappointed this morning.” Foggy narrowed his eyes at Matt. He obviously didn’t have a clue. “No? Okay, well she was mighty disappointed. And she was more than generous with her gifts to us. We’ll buy something nice and give it to her on Thursday. And next year we’ll do our present shopping earlier than the night before- oof-” Foggy stumbled as a bag-laden shopper collided with his shoulder. “Ergh. Let’s do dad and Theo first. I don’t think I can cope with the women’s department right now.”

As they made their way to the escalator, Matt said, “what are you getting Marci?”

Foggy snorted. “Matt, there’s no _way_ I’d be allowed to do that. Marci orders her own Christmas present. I just provide the credit card.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“I’m trying not to think about it.” Out of habit, Foggy said, “top” as they reached the next floor.

“So what did you get her?”

“Mmm…”

Matt chuckled. “You don’t remember, do you.”

Foggy cracked a smile. “No, and I’ll get in trouble for it at some point. But at least it won’t be until she gets back from her parents’ next week.”

The two men made it up four floors before Foggy yelped, “ooh, Matt. Can I just look at the Lego?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can go to Josie’s. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I’ll be two minutes. Promise. There’s a new Lego Star Wars ship out. I just want to look.”

Matt followed Foggy through the aisles of the children’s department. Frenzied parents were loading up with boxes of dolls, trucks, and electric toys that emitted cheesy songs when bumped.

Matt leaned against the shelves as Foggy gushed over the latest Lego release. With his back to his friend, Foggy said excitedly, “hey, you might actually appreciate my description of the next movie if you get your feelers over here, Matt…. Matt?” Foggy looked over at his pale friend. “Hey Matt, are you okay?”

“Mmm just tired.”

“You’re not hurt?”

Matt shook his head. He swayed slightly as he did so, and Foggy put down the starship box. “Seriously, you don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be better once we’re out of here.” A child let out a high-pitched scream over by the make-your-own-bear stand, making Matt visibly wince.

Foggy winced in sympathy and quickly said, “sure, sure, sorry.”

Matt grabbed Foggy’s arm as they made their way back to the escalators. Foggy chatted constantly, describing all the Christmas decorations as they walked. “There’s Spongebob Squarepants with a Christmas hat. It looks a bit DIY – they’ve wrapped Christmas lights around his neck… if you can call it a neck. Can a sponge have a neck? Oh and over to our left is Captain America riding a reindeer.”

Matt suddenly pushed Foggy sideways, yelling, “watch out.” There was a crash as the Spongebob Squarepants fell forwards, pinning Matt underneath.

“Shit! Matt!” Foggy scrabbled at the edge of the figure. “Ow,” he yelped as a shard of shattered Christmas light sliced through his palm.

Hearing the commotion, a security guard rushed over, pausing only briefly to radio his colleagues. As they pushed the heavy wooden cartoon character off the unconscious Matt, Foggy retched slightly as he saw Matt’s arm twisted at an odd angle – probably as a result of trying to minimise the blow. If there was ever a time to be unconscious, now was probably a good time.

The paramedics arrived within minutes (Foggy suspected were probably stationed downstairs to rescue stressed shoppers having heart attacks or something). Matt was still unconscious and was clear that his avoidance of hospitals wasn’t going to fly this time. As the medics loaded Matt onto a stretcher, Foggy rehearsed what he’d tell Matt once he awoke and found himself in hospital. _If_ he woke. Foggy shook the thought off. There was no way Matt could survive all his Daredevil stuff and then be killed by Spongebob Squarepants. Matt was right. They should have just ordered the presents online.

Foggy was so distracted by his _what if_ panic that he didn’t notice the paramedic flicking a penlight in Matt’s eyes. “No response to light,” the medic said to his colleague.

“Oh, um, yeah that’s normal,” said Foggy hurriedly. He gestured at Matt’s cane that was lying under a loose string of Christmas lights. “He’s blind. No light perception.”

“Phew,” the paramedic responded. Foggy had never imagined Matt’s blindness to be met positively, but here they were.

Blood from a cut on Matt’s temple was drying his hair into a thick wad. One of the medics held a pad against the cut, accidentally nudging the oxygen mask crooked so that it pressed a white line into Matt’s already pale cheek. Foggy started to follow the paramedics to the elevator before dashing back to rescue Matt’s mangled cane.

“Is he going to be okay?” Foggy ventured as he caught up to the group.

“We’ll know more once we’re at the hospital,” one of them replied before they spotted Foggy’s blood stained hand. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s just a cut.”

One paramedic and the security guard continued wheeling Matt towards the elevator while the other stopped and pulled some gloves from her pack. “Can I have a look at your hand?”

“Really, it’s okay. It can wait until the hospital. I don’t want to be separated.”

Foggy quickly convinced her that, yes, it was minor, and yes, he’d get it seen to at the hospital, and they caught up to Matt and his entourage.

As they entered the elevator, a crowd of curious onlookers formed a ring at the door. “A bit of respect,” Foggy hollered at a couple of shoppers who had their cameras out and were filming the whole saga.

As the doors closed behind them, Matt let out a low groan and one of the paramedics said, “he’s seizing.” Foggy was pushed out of the way before he even registered what was going on. Foggy peered past the security guard just as Matt came to a still. “Ten seconds,” the first paramedic said, looking at her watch.

In a shaky voice, Foggy said, “what was that?”

“He had a seizure. It was brief, but we need to get him to a hospital stat.”

“A seizure? What does that mean?”

“Does he have a history of seizures?”

“No… no, not that I know of. He’s never mentioned it.” Foggy carded his uninjured hand through his hair. Five minutes earlier, he’d been dreaming of constructing a Lego starship, of drinking mulled wine, pulling Christmas crackers, and eating turkey until his belly resembled that of Santa Claus.

When Matt didn’t want to go Christmas shopping in person, Foggy had told him _what’s the worst that can happen?_ If this is what guilt felt like, no wonder Matt needed to hit things.

 

* * *

 

The doctors in the ER threw dozens of questions Foggy’s way. “Has he dislocated his shoulder before? Has he ever had seizures? What’s the nature of his vision impairment? Has he ever had a brain injury?”

Foggy answered them as best as possible. He hesitated at the question about brain injuries. Only last week Matt had arrived at work with a reddened lump the size of a golf ball on his forehead. It wasn’t exactly unusual. And then there was the time he was shot in the head…

“Uh, he’s fallen down a few times,” Foggy ventured. “Um, he tripped on the stairs taking out the garbage recently… oh and I’ve seen him bump his head against an open cupboard a couple of times – not mine of course, just – it’s hard when you can’t see things.”

The doctor didn’t seem at all surprised or even suspicious about Foggy’s stuttered response until Matt’s shirt was cut off to reveal some of his more gruesome scars on his lower torso and chest.

The doctor looked at Foggy. “these scars – where are they from?”

“Not sure, sorry. You’ll have to ask him.”

“You said you were his college roommate?”

“He didn’t have them then. As I said, you’ll have to ask him.” Foggy paused and said, “I-I have someone who might know about the dislocated shoulder though. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll make a call.”

Claire couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She repeated for the third time, “Matt’s in a hospital?”

“Yeah, well, you disappeared on us,” Foggy joked. “But really, um, it wasn’t as – you know, alter ego. Spongebob Squarepants fell on top of him while we were Christmas shopping – although he was made of wood, not sponge... important distinction, I guess…” Foggy could just imagine how high Claire’s eyebrows were raised just now. When Claire didn’t comment, Foggy continued, “um, yeah, so I just wanted to know if Matt has ever had a seizure-”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good, good. Um, has he dislocated his shoulder before?”

“Hang on, go back to the seizure-”

“He-he had one briefly – on the way to the ambulance.”

“He’s going to brush the dislocation off, but after the seizure, it’s going to be more painful than his previous dislocations.”

“Hang on, dislocations plural?” Foggy paused then muttered, “actually, you don’t need to answer that. Of course he has.” Out of politeness, he asked, “how have you been?”

Claire simply replied “sorry, I’ve got to go, but- let me know – keep me updated… please.”

Foggy looked at Matt, who was now awake but heavily dosed with painkillers. The doctors were waiting for the radiology results before the shoulder was returned to its place, but in the meantime, it was a matter of waiting.

Foggy watched as a nurse patiently picked out yet another splinter of chipboard from Matt’s palm. Foggy learned that her name was Alice and that Matt wasn’t the first patient to be injured by Spongebob Squarepants. Apparently, some kid had ended up having a mini Spongebob figurine surgically removed only last week.

“If only the decoration were made of sponge,” Alice joked. It wasn’t the first joke to be made that night, but Foggy wasn’t in the mood to laugh – not while Matt was lying here half-conscious.

Matt didn’t seem to respond as she dug into the soft flesh of his palm. His breath was still coming in pained gasps and he was yet to give a coherent response to any of the staff who streamed in and out of the room.

After what seemed like a cruel eternity, the curtains were pulled open and a doctor with the widest grin Foggy had ever seen strode into the cubicle. He pinned a couple of X-rays to a light box and said to Foggy, “simple dislocation. Easily fixed. Is this the first time he’s dislocated his shoulder?”

“Uh,” Foggy looked towards the door. “What happened to the other doctor?”

“There are quite a few of us in here, huh,” the doctor grinned. “So back to dislocations – any history?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s dislocated his shoulder before.”

The doctor quizzed Foggy further until he’d run out of answers. “Well, let’s get started will we?” He rubbed his hands. “Alice, is it?”

“Uh, Foggy, you might want to be out of the room for this,” Alice said.

Foggy shook his head. “No, I want to be with Matt.”

“Okay,” Alice said in a voice of scepticism.

Even though Matt seemed unconscious immediately before the procedure, he let out a tortured yowl as the shoulder was manoeuvred back into place.

The doctor checked the monitor. “If it were a seizure or a dislocation alone, I’d probably discharge him, but I’m a bit worried about the seizure. Can you find him a room please Alice?”

Foggy interrupted, “does he have to stay? It’s Christmas Eve. No one wants to be in hospital on Christmas day.” He gave the doctor a pleading look before turning his attention back to Matt. He was now fast asleep – something that the doctors explained was quite normal after a seizure. Matt’s hand was wrapped in gauze now that the splinters were finally removed, and tube snaked across his pale cheeks delivering oxygen. He looked unusually small and vulnerable in this moment – something that Foggy was convinced would change once Matt woke up and realised where he was.

The doctor thought for a moment. “Hmm… Alice, we might taper the Lorazepam and assess his pain levels when he wakes up. Let me know as soon as he’s awake or if he looks like he’s in more pain. Get him a sling too.” And then the doctor was gone.

Foggy sighed. “How do you remember all that?”

Alice gave him a weary smile. “You get used to it,” she said, gently wiping the accumulated sweat off Matt’s face. “I’ll be back in a minute with that sling.”

“He’s going to hate that.”

“Better than causing more damage,” Alice replied as she left the cubicle.

Foggy was fast asleep against the bed when Matt roused. Matt let out a tortured whine of pain as he did so, clearly not conscious enough to understand where he was.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy croaked.

Matt gave a small sob. “Whe-where-”

“Metro General. You fell and dislocated your shoulder – well, something fell on you.”

“Don’t want.”

“Ever the orator,” Foggy muttered under his breath.

“Fog, what?” Matt rubbed his cheek with the back of his good hand and groaned as he came in contact with the nasal cannula. He tried to sit up while concurrently untangling himself from the sling. “Ngh… Foh-I can’t-I-I-”

Foggy put his hand on Matt’s uninjured arm to stop him from leaping off the bed. “Just breathe, Matt. Calm. Breathe. You’re in hospital. But only for a few hours. Just until you’re more awake.”

Matt blinked slowly, determined to appear awake.

“Hey,” Foggy said gently, “you can sleep if you want. It’s okay. There’s no rush. The doctor wanted to admit you overnight for observation because you had a seizure – a-apparently that’s a symptom of concussion. I convinced him to hold off, but if you want to stay and rest you can.”

“No,” Matt breathed. He slid his hand into Foggy’s, closing his so very heavy eyes. He slurred, “wha they give me?”

“Something for the pain.”

“Still hurts,” Matt mumbled.

“There’s an admission,” Foggy said.

Matt’s fingers drifted over the gauze covering Foggy’s own hand. “You’re hurt,” he croaked.

“It’s just a scratch from the Christmas lights. You had Spongebob Squarepants squash you, Matty. I can’t compete with that.”

Matt frowned. He had no idea what Foggy was talking about. “Sponge-?”

Foggy was still coming to grips with just how absurd the incident sounded on retelling. He gave Matt’s hand a squeeze, “never mind. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow when you’re more awake. For now just rest.”

 

* * *

 

It was well after midnight by the time they released Matt, who was still drowsy, slow and crabby. Foggy helped him straight to bed before collapsing on the couch fully-clothed.

Matt didn’t seem much more awake late the next morning when Foggy tentatively knocked on Matt’s bedroom door. “Um, Matt, we’re due at mom and dad’s in a few hours. Do you want me to ring up and cancel?”

Matt gave a grunt to signal that he was computing. Christmas lunch at the Nelson’s was a loud and social affair, and one that he really couldn’t imagine attending right now.

After a short silence, Foggy added, “do you want to see how you feel in a couple of hours?”

“Uh, yeah,” Matt croaked. “Sorry, I know we were both looking forward to today. You’re welcome to go without me.”

“And leave you alone on Christmas Day? No way.”

Matt mumbled something as he struggled upright.

“You’re going to have to repeat that, Matt.”

“I missed midnight mass.”

“Ohhh, of course. Um, is there another one today?”

Matt reached for the glass on the bedside table, taking a large swig before mumbling, “yeah, but I don’t think – I don’t think I’ll make that either.” He sunk back into the pillows, closing his eyes.

Foggy cleared his throat, “so is that a yes or a no to Christmas lunch? No pressure, I just need to let mom know.”

“Y-yes. I could use the distraction,” Matt mumbled. “I might catch another hour’s sleep though first.” He pulled the blanket up to his neck and curled onto his uninjured side, giving a small gasp at the pain. “I knew Christmas shopping was painful, but-” Matt breathed out through narrowed lips. “Wake me in an hour if you can, Fog.”

* * *

 

Three hours later the two men were standing outside Nelson’s Quality Meats.

Foggy looked at Matt. “You ready?”

Matt gave a theatrical deep inhale and said “not really. But that’s no excuse.” He tipped his head and smiled. “They’re talking about us.”

“Do I want to know?”

“All good things,” Matt said, giving the door a weak knock.

Foggy’s mother gave each of them multiple kisses and hugs before they were even through the front door. “Matt, honey, Foggy told me what happened,” Anna said, looking at his sling. “I’m surprised you came.”

Matt gave her his best smile. “I wouldn’t miss your turkey for the world.”

“We will have to do an IOU on the Christmas presents though,” Foggy said. “Our last-minute shopping was cut short.”

“Don’t be silly. Your presence is more than enough.” They followed Anna into the dining room where card tables had been set up at either end of the dining table to accommodate all the extra guests. A couple of bottles of sparkling wine sat empty on the table, which at least explained the louder than usual buzz from the room.

A figure leapt at Foggy, giving him a tight hug. “Connie,” He squawked. “Since when-”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Hi Matt,” said Foggy’s sister. Connie’s heart rate remained steady for once, and Matt smiled as he realised she was finally over her teenage crush on him.

“London get too cold for you then?” Foggy laughed.

“I swear it’s just been grey for months,” she replied. “There’s not even snow to distract me.”

“Matt, maybe you should move to London,” Foggy joked.

Connie frowned. “You don’t like snow?”

“I’ve had some bad experiences with piles of ploughed snow,” Matt replied with a straight face.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Matt waved her off. “It’s fine.”

“Anyway, I want you to meet my fiancé, Thomas,” she said after a small silence.

That explained Connie’s regular heartbeat, Matt thought.

“Full of surprises,” Foggy said, pulling his sister in for a second hug.

There were the usual polite introductions, more hugs and kisses from the extended Nelson clan, including Foggy’s brother, Theo, who was looking uncharacteristically happy.

Foggy valiantly fielded the inevitable questions about Matt’s run in with Spongebob Squarepants. All Matt wanted to do was sit in silence. His head hurt and his brain felt like it was filled with cotton wool. The doctors had explained that the concussion and associated seizure could result in a certain ‘fuzziness’, but Matt suspected the strong painkillers they’d given him last night were still lurking in his system, amplifying the effect.

“Matt… _Matt_!” Foggy gave his uninjured hand a couple of taps.

Matt snapped back to the present. “Ye-yeah?”

“Mom wants to know what you want to drink.”

“Oh, Sorry. Uh, whatever everyone else is having.” Matt closed his eyes as an ambulance screamed past the shop. The sound drove into his brain and he momentarily disconnected from his surroundings.

“Prosecco? Is that wise?”

“What’s the worst that could- “

“No!” Foggy yelped, before turning around and apologising to the suddenly silent room.

Once everyone had gone back to their conversations, Foggy whispered, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” He shook his head at Matt’s smug smile. “You do remember that last time that phrase was uttered, Spongebob Squarepants knocked you unconscious.” Matt’s smile quickly faded.

The sparkling wine went straight to Matt’s head, and before lunch had even been served, his eyes were drooping with fatigue. Foggy said under his breath, “Matt, do you want to have a nap on the couch?”

Matt rubbed his forehead, “Uh, I don’t want to be rude,” he mumbled.

“You’re not. You have a good excuse.”

Matt gave a single nod, and took Foggy’s arm, slipping into the adjacent living area before anyone could ask what was wrong.

Matt slept through lunch, then Christmas pudding, then tea, coffee, eggnog, and whiskey. By the time he woke up, most of the guests had left and the ear-splitting noise had been replaced with a softer chatter.

He kicked off the blanket and sat up with a groan. His head was still pulsing with pain but the dizziness that was there earlier had subsided. He leaned against the backrest for a couple of minutes to collect himself before venturing back to the dining table.

Anna immediately served Matt up a full plate of turkey, ham and all the trimmings, which she announced had been pre-cut so that he could eat one-handed. Matt picked up the fork and poked at the turkey. He could sense that the collective gaze of the Nelson clan was entirely concentrated on him. Sensing Matt’s unease, Foggy announced he was going in for ‘afternoon seconds’, throwing some ham and potato onto a plate and digging into it with great enthusiasm.

“You don’t have to finish all of it,” Foggy said, his mouth half-full. “The highlights are from twelve through to four: ham, turkey, stuffing.”

“That’s just meat,” Matt replied.

“The highlights,” Foggy repeated.

 

* * *

 

“Six weeks off Daredevilling _minimum_ ,” Foggy said as he walked Matt up to his apartment. Despite Matt’s protests, Foggy insisted on carrying the multiple bottles of wine and cake and other Christmas gifts due to Matt’s one arm disadvantage.

“Foggy shhh”, Matt hissed.

“No one’s going to overhear. Speaking of hearing though… you might want to call Claire. I spoke to her last night – I-I needed to know your medical history. She said she hasn’t heard from you since-since um, the night of Midland Circle.”

Matt continued the slow walk up to his apartment in silence, and Foggy decided not to push it.

They both collapsed into Matt’s couch. Foggy rubbed his round belly. “I’m not going to be able to eat anything for a week.”

Matt chuckled. “You say that every year and yet every year I witness you eat nothing but turkey and ham for an entire week after Christmas.”

“Not last year,” Foggy said quietly.

“Not last year.” Matt hung his head.

Sensing it was time to change the topic, Foggy ventured, “did you speak to Maggie?”

Matt shook his head. “It’s a busy day. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Sure, sure.” Foggy rubbed his face. “Ergh, I don’t know about you but I’m beat. I think I got like four hours sleep last night, and then the whiskey-”

“Go home. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure you can manage one handed?”

“It’s not my first dislocation,” Matt pointed out.

“Yeah, but I know for a fact that your back and hip are still screwed after Midland Circle-” Matt opened his mouth to argue, but Foggy got in first. “Maggie told me. Yes, we’ve swapped notes, and yes, we’re colluding to keep you from overdoing it. So no Daredevilling, no heavy lifting... just _rest_.”

 

* * *

 

Foggy didn’t believe that Matt would actually rest, but when he dropped in uninvited the next day, Matt was listening to the radio, curled up on the couch in his sweats, hoodie and fuzzy socks.

“You should be wearing the sling,” Foggy said on entry.

“Hello to you too,” Matt replied. After a pause, Matt said, “it hurts my neck. This is okay. I’m not doing anything while I’m sitting.”

Foggy pulled a couple of beers from his bag. “Thought we could do a belated post-Christmas shopping beer.”

Matt frowned. “But I haven’t shopped yet.”

“Yeah, but I have.” Foggy handed Matt a parcel.

Matt awkwardly ripped it open one handed and ran his hands over the soft fabric. “A t-shirt,” Matt said. He shook it open and felt the raised lines on the front. “Foggy, you didn’t!”

“I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m not wearing a Spongebob t-shirt.”

“You can wear it in court when we sue the department store for everything they have.”

Matt shook his head.

“Okay, well, I got you a key ring too just in case the t-shirt was too much.” Foggy tossed a smaller package into Matt’s lap, and then handed him Spongebob mug. “Something to use at work... until we rake in those millions when we sue the store for everything they have.”

“Is suing them all you care about?”

“When it comes to you being nearly killed by a cartoon character, yes. I think our opening remark should include something about using sponge rather than wood for their decorations. We’re going to clean up, Matt.”

“Did you just make a sponge joke?”

“Yes, I have a whole list,” Foggy said, pretending to feel for a notebook.

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Hey, don’t get all wrung out.”

“Foggy-”

“Sorry, sorry…” Foggy leaned in to give Matt a hug, “here, give me a squeeze.”

Relieved, Matt gave Foggy an awkward one-armed hug, withdrawing suddenly when he registered the double meaning of Foggy’s last words.

“Foggy, stop.”

“Oh, come on, Matt, don’t be so square.”

Matt quietly got up and wandered into the kitchen. He picked up the sopping sponge and threw it at the back of Foggy’s head. Foggy squawked as the sponge connected with a squelch.

“Hey, I didn’t deserve that,” Foggy said, returning the sponge. It missed Matt by a couple of feet, but Matt reached out and snatched it from the air.

“I’d cry for you, but I’m fresh out of moisture,” Matt replied. He returned to the couch and put his arm over Foggy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “But seriously, thanks for the other night, man. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“Oh, um you’re welcome,” Foggy said, confused by the change in tone. “Any time.”

“Soak up the gratitude while you can,” Matt said, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Ergh. What have I done? I’ve created a monster.”


End file.
